


Ashamed of him

by sycamoretree



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Family, Protective Thorin, nasty healer, post-delivery, suggestion to harm infant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycamoretree/pseuds/sycamoretree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill to this prompt in the Hobbit kink meme: Dis has just given birth to Kili, but there's something wrong with him. Nothing serious, but in Dwarven culture it's very shameful to have an imperfect baby. The healer explains to Dis and Thorin that the dwarfling is a source of great shame, and what they ought to do with Kili. <br/>Dis is too exhausted to respond, but Thorin's there and he goes crazy. Thus, superprotectiveuncle!Thorin appears to defend his small family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashamed of him

**Author's Note:**

> I took the liberty to make Fili fifteen years (5 human years) without minding real facts about the age difference between the brothers, or what dwarf age compares to in human years. Don’t lynch me for it. :)

Thorin hesitates right outside Dis’ bedchamber.

No cries emerge from inside any longer, which relieves him greatly, because which loving brother would enjoy listening to his sister wail and howl until the dark night fell outside and made the home even gloomier than normal?

Thorin has already more or less pounced on the retreating midwives once they left the closed chamber carrying their bowls of red, hot water. He has received much desired news about his sister’s condition after her second delivery.  What he knows is that she is a bit peaky and apparently injured below, but that the remaining and supervising healer has staunched the bleeding.

To his displeasure, none of the snickering dwarf women have revealed much about the newborn, for they claimed to have barely seen it themselves since the male healer had caught the dwarfling and placed it in a bundle after wiping it off. Still, Thorin is concerned about the lack of infant screams, but he figures that the healer knows what he’s doing.

So the tall, nervous, but dignified dwarf shuffles to the door and reaches for the handle with a hand that is tired from clenching and un-clenching this night. He opens and enters.

His eyes need a moment to adjust to the light from many candles that cast a golden sheen over the stuffy room. Then he notices the smell. The whole chamber smells different and yet similar to a battlefield. It consists of blood, sweat, pain. But this is a happy occasion. The mother still tries to catch her breath, exhausted as any dwarf woman would be after the feat of birthing a dwarfling.

Uncommonly silent for a full-grown dwarf in boots, Thorin draws nearer Dis’ bed and straightens his blue tunic and belt in the process. The healer is in a corner with his back turned from them as he stands by a desk and fiddles with something wriggling and white rags that Thorin can’t quite see. Instead, he quells his curiosity at the newborn and approaches his sister who lies reclined on her bed in a soaked nightshirt. Thorin can make out full breasts ready to feed a dwarfling and a belly that is still swollen from the pregnancy.

The previously clean sheets and blankets, that he had helped her with some days earlier when she had a large belly that made such house chores difficult to perform alone, are now stained with yellow perspiration spots speckled with red, but it means life, not death, Thorin has to remind himself. It wouldn’t do to confuse a delivery room with the memories of battlefields with dying warriors that plague his mind sometimes.

With tangled hair, and one thick braid almost undone, Dis toss and turn in her reclined position, seemingly anxious. “Dis,” Thorin emits quietly and her head lolls here and there on the pillow.

“She is still dazed from the herbs that relieved the pain somewhat.”

The healer’s voice rings out, clipped and professional through the golden light. Thorin swallows a curse and his heart beats faster. Dis should have her husband present in this moment, to greet their second dwarfling, but the dwarf is trading in a town far away. It is a respectable job, one that brings coins to the household, but the price is his long absence.

When Dis had asked him to, Thorin had moved in with Dis the last moons before the birth to help her. He has not replaced her husband, but he has provided much needed aid with daily chores. Thorin’s only pain is that Fili has begun cling to him more often than not, which should be acceptable, except that Thorin doesn’t want the lad to get more attached to his uncle than his father. That’s not how a family should be like in his opinion.

A distressed moan from his otherwise strong sister makes Thorin reach out and wipe dampness from her brow with his sleeve and then he takes holds of her clammy hand but she is frowning like no recently delivered mother should, and her hand is lose in his grip.

Suddenly her lips are moving in discontent and Dis emits faintly, “What’s wrong with my dwarfling? Give him to me.”

A lad!

Thorin’s eyes prickle all of a sudden but he straightens himself to greet his youngest nephew, proper and composed. He doubts his hand is trembling in Dis’.

“You have a son!” he chuckles.

Dis lowers her brows in concentration and the glaze fades from her eyes.

“The healer has lingered long enough at that desk now. I haven’t even gotten a chance to see my dwarfling,” Dis complains and Thorin shushes her soothingly with a rumbling tone.

Then the healer spins around and wraps the final pieces of linen fast around the little one so the flailing arms get trapped. Dis’ son lets out a protesting wail at the rough treatment.

Thorin sees only the tufts of Durin-dark hair on his crown. Thorin imagines that the little one could nearly fit in one of his palms.  The healer lowers his head and his mouth is a thin line.

“Apologies, Lady Dis, Mister Oakenshield. The lad, eh… _offspring_ is faulted.”

Thorin’s mouth falls open, terror is all of a sudden flooding his mind and now Dis tightens her grip on his hand until his fingers hurt. Her eyes stay locked on the bundle in the healer’s arms. The healer looks uncommonly embarrassed and nauseous for a professional helping women bearing down properly all the time.

Thorin does not approve of him anymore, especially not since they paid a fortune considering their limited resources; five of Dis’ rings and two of his own silver braid claps to get one of the best healers in the town there and watch over the ordeal.

“Tell us,” Thorin croaks in a hoarse voice and vows to himself to love the dwarfling anyway, no matter what ails him. A dwarvish life is always highly valuable to their shrinking race. Thorin could adapt to whatever may come in the future with the little one.

Then the healer shifts and happens to shake the dwarfling who starts to cry, not loud, but teary. Dis makes to sit up, possibly to go to him, so Thorin stays her by placing a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Dis, think of the tear! You’re still bleeding. Rest here,” he hurries to remind her but Dis swats his hand away and snarls with contorted features, “Shut up, Thorin! He’s my dwarfling. He needs me.”

Thorin flinches at the powerful maternal instincts that raise Dis’ hackles even as she’s recovering in the stained bed. The healer decides to share the dreaded news with them at last, if only to calm the restless mother.

“The… offspring is not right. Aulë must have cursed him while he grew in your belly.”

“In Durin’s name; tell us already. Does he not have ten toes and ten fingers?” Thorin bursts out, worried by the hesitant dwarf. The healer purses his lips in disgust as he looks down at the keening dwarfling.

“Aye, he has all the limbs as one would expect. But the fingers…”

He lifts his gaze to the royal siblings and delivers with a cold tone, “His fingers are webbed together with skin. He is not a dwarf. He is misshapen.”

Dis swallows and her frame trembles from exhaustion. “Show me.”

“My lady, the offspring is ugl…”

“Show me my son!” she insists sternly and the healer scurries close and bends down to position the bundle beside her. Dis heaves herself onto her side before Thorin can intervene, her head bows in strain but she does not emit a sound of pain. Finally she is free to use one arm and with it she shifts the bundle closer to her on the bed and unwraps the Western, tight swaddle meticulously.

The small creature’s red face is crumpled in dismay at the earlier rough treatment before it locks eyes with Thorin; dark eyes meet blue and Thorin finds himself moved. The lad has his Da’s eyes alright, but also the hair of his own kin. His features are delicate but handsome in a royal way, and Thorin thinks he looks like a miniature version of himself.

Meanwhile, Dis dotes and hums through a tired voice as she unwinds the strapping until she frees the arms. The tiny hands clasp at nothing and strain upwards and Dis coos and grasps one fist utterly carefully which causes the newborn to focus on her face instead.

Thorin holds his breath as mother and son connect.

A kiss on the small fist from a loving mother. “Hullo, Kili. Little Kili. Strong Kili. Our Kili.”

Then, as the dwarfling’s nose wrinkles and he chews with a toothless jaw on his own lip, Dis coaxes the hand open.

The hand looks… normal.

There is a shadow of skin covering the space from each knuckle to the second joint, but it looks more like a transparent, temporary draping than a deformation.

And Dis smiles never falter, and neither does Thorin’s.

“I’m Ma. You have a family, Kili. I’m your Ma, but your Da is away trading. We did not anticipate your eagerness to meet us so soon, but you are most welcome in any case. Your uncle Thorin is here, though, and I can tell his heart is melting like the iron in a forge right this instant simply at the sight of you. You have a brother, too. Fili is his name. He has Da’s hair but my mischievous nature. He is very excited to meet you soon.”

Thorin kneels by the bedside, humbled by the sight before him, and places one hand on top of Kili’s warm head, silken hair soft against the coarse palm, and the other slings around Dis’ shoulders. He leans up to place a kiss on Dis’ temple.

“He is a marvel, Dis. I think Kili is a good name for the lad.”

She turns glistening eyes to him and brings Kili even closer between them on the mattress. “Thorin, I have two sons.”

Her tone is reverent, euphoric in a composed manner and Thorin begins to believe that they truly are becoming blessed by Mahal after all the hardships they’ve been through.

***

Suddenly someone clearing their throat interrupts them in their moment. “May I ask something?”

His sister tenses and this causes Kili to pout at the ended attention while Thorin wrenches his gaze from his family to the intruding healer.

“If you have said your goodbyes, can I have him now to dispose of?”

“What?” Thorin manages in a confused mutter.

The healer all but rolls his eyes impatiently. “The offspring is not fit to live amongst us. A dwarf is no dwarf without functioning hands. What can he do with those, those… fins? He cannot build, he cannot forge, he cannot craft, he cannot fight, he cannot mine, he cannot carve. He will not be able to grasp any tools or do chores like normal dwarves can. Just look at the abomination!”

Thorin’s expression darkens as he contemplates the foreign traditions of the Western dwarves while Dis’ eyelids droop and a shiver goes through her.

“Thorin, I’m a little dizzy,” she admits faintly.

The healer comes up to her side immediately and touches her forehead. “A fever. It is the thing that causes it. It is your body reacting to the amount of shame, Lady Dis. You birthed a faulted thing. It doesn’t belong here.”

Overwhelmed, Dis slumps back on the bed and her breaths come out laboured.

“Hold Kili for me for a while, Thorin,” she murmurs and closes her eyes and Thorin feels panic flare inside his chest. This did not happen at Fili’s birth, or so he has heard for he was not present at the time. And he does think the healer has the authority and expertise in this room to deal with complications. Thorin would not want to interfere with a professional’s work, but the nasty remark about Kili nags inside him as the healer guides Dis back against the pillows.

In a precautious move he can’t quite explain, Thorin pulls Kili from Dis’ embrace to her side on the mattress to let him be near his Ma but not weight down her struggling, rising chest. Kili apparently attempts to kick the tight swaddle away from his legs, completely in vain.

It puts a thorn in his heart to let go of the vulnerable dwarfling. Then Thorin moves back and stands, gaze fixed on the pale sister that continues to worry him.

A whisper pierces the silence in the chamber. “It would be most merciful for the thing to let Aulë take it back and reshape it into a proper dwarfling for another woman in the future. Toss it into the fire of a forge to at least give it the honor of experiencing some dwarvish culture.”

Thorin’s bushy brows dip in great distress and he feels confused by the sudden change of the scene. The room spins from when he stood up, his sister is bleeding beneath the cover; he’s certain of that, a healer keeps calling his nephew an _it_ and there is no celebration of the newly born son.

The healer bends over the mumbling woman with a purposeful expression. “Lady Dis, I’ll be happy to do this favor to you, and no-one shall know what came from your belly,” the dwarf whispers urgently to a gasping, pained Dis who bravely clings to consciousness even if her eyes are closed. Still, she manages some words past her split lips.

“The lad… abomination… Kili, my… a nephew.”

Instinctively, Thorin jerks at the epithet he proudly calls Fili whenever he visits Dis and her husband’s home. Fili has been looking forward to a brother or a sister. Thorin is used to being an uncle.

The healer keeps talking throughout Thorin’s errand thoughts and gestures at Kili on the other side of Dis. “She agrees. Mister Oakenshield, I have her consent. If you could just give me the bundle...”

“But she birthed him. She carried him for fourteen moons. And he lives. Every dwarf-life is valuable,” Thorin begins tentatively, feeling very much out of his depth in the customs inside a delivery room and the dwarf nods solemnly.

“Aye, every dwarf. But not that half-fish. Think of your family’s honour, Oakenshield. To have a monster like that…”

Kili attempts to raise his legs and grapple at the knees but ends up rocking on the soft surface, too uncoordinated yet to lift his back.

“Couldn’t we just arrange an appointment with a healer to remove the finger-skin?” Thorin croaks, hoping to persuade the healer to only tend to Dis who needs the acute treatment, but the healer lets out a short barking laugh.

“And leave the creature with hideous scars? He would have to wear gloves forever to not repel others, but even so, scars may be hidden; not disgrace. If he isn’t a perfect dwarfling now, he’ll not be a perfect dwarf later.”

Doubt torments Thorin as he appreciates the insistent healer who won’t let the matter drop. The bloody apron and the rough, barrel-brown tunic makes him resemble a butcher rather than the dignified but honoured healers Thorin recalls from Erebor and the one that was present when Fili was born.

The unease in his veins makes Thorin actually bend down and pick up Kili to rest him against his chest, cradling the light dwarfling close to his heart. The small lad is dependent on him alone in the world right now. Dis’ skin looks grey in the fluttering candlelight. She seems to sleep restlessly.

  
***

At the sight of his action, the healer puts his hands on his hips and relents with a discontent grimace. “If a fire is too farfetched a step for you, then I suggest leaving it to an orphanage. I know one in a village not far from here. You’ll never have to see it again, and it can socialize with its own kind; other deformed creatures and bastards of Men, Elves, half-orcs and Dwarves.”

“But he is of our line. Of our blood. He is fathered from an honorable dwarf and mothered from Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of King Thror Under the Mountain. He is a Durin; neither abandoned nor unwanted,“ Thorin tries to reason, almost pleadingly, and cups Kili’s head to his rumbling chest, mindful of the weak neck.

Kili's impossibly small fingers clutch at the woolen tunic before him and he clearly has no trouble using his hands like other newborns can. The lad makes smacking noises and Thorin then feels more than hears the groans from the tiny stomach that rests against his ribcage.

“You’re hungry,” he mutters to Kili and knows he should place the dwarfling next to Dis’ warm bosom to feed, but the healer has placed himself between the brother and the sister in the room.

“Move aside,” Thorin emits with a low voice and shifts on the spot to broaden his stance like a biding predator and as it turns out, Kili does fit in one of his hands, and wrist admittedly, when he leans the little one against the left side of his chest.

The snarky obstacle protests. “Think very carefully of what you’re about to do, Oakenshield. You’ll cast shame on your whole family! Others will jest and spurn you wherever you go with that thing. No-one will see you fit for a throne, and neither shall that other lad, Fili, be thought of as a prince. Do you wish that for your kin? This is my warning: if you put that bundle next to Lady Dis despite the fact that she has already estranged it, she will have to move with the thing, possibly change her name so no-one recognize her as the former, unshamed, princess Under the Mountain. It would be best if that curse doesn’t come in contact with more honorable dwarves. I’m sure her husband agrees with me.”

Thorin’s patience falters and he marches up to the dwarf who has splayed his arms to hinder his passage. Thorin’s free hand wanders to the ever-present dagger in his belt, but the fact that he is carrying his nephew makes him falter before attacking the healer. He mustn’t let Kili come to harm if he’s to fight. But the soft, safe bed and the dozed off mother is on the other side of the healer. Thorin simply won’t fight with a newborn on his arm.

Instead, he thinks of another option. Like a dignified declaration, Thorin suddenly emphasizes with royal authority, “Kili is hereby my second heir in the succession. I officially recognize him as a prince of the Durins. It is therefore my responsibility to protect him and care for him. Move.”

The healer widens his eyes and winces falsely. “Oh, dear. I see you have already related to it. What a _shame_ indeed. Mark my words; no-one will be able to help the lady if she keeps having a physical curse in her home. Look at her; she’s raving and getting worse.”

“Because you are a lousy healer who can’t even stop a bleeding. You also have the nerve to force her into a hasty but vital decision while she’s barely aware of it!”

“And you can vow that she wants this monster? She’s been ill since the birth!” the healer counters and Thorin grabs him by the collar and looms over the weaker dwarf.

“She was tender with him and she talked to him. I know my sister better than you do. Her mind holds neither grudge nor disgust against Kili. Remove yourself from our home.”

The healer puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head arrogantly. Thorin interprets it as a challenge.

With the prowess of a warrior, he spins so his left side, the one where Kili is, is turned from the other dwarf, and with his free hand, Thorin shoves him hard in the shoulder so the lankier dwarf stumbles to the other side of the room. Not losing time, Thorin hurries to lower Kili onto the bed in the space between Dis’ body and arm and his nephew snuggles in the added heat.

Then Thorin turns to address the threat to his family. Thorin charges at him with clenched fists and an enraged expression. Despite the shocked gasp from the healer, Thorin grabs hold of him and hauls him up only to press him against the wall with an arm against his neck and one leg pinning the thighs of the other.

“What kind of healer are you, that you would deem ancient traditions more important than common sense and the well-being of your patients?” Thorin roars and shakes the dwarf violently and the healer snarls back with curled lips, “The wise kind that still cares about our culture and a healthy, strong population.”

The manic healer uses his unguarded hands to aim punches at Thorin’s middle but the experienced warrior sees them coming and blocks the blows with his arms before securing the wild dwarf anew.

“We cannot afford to be picky, as if any parents ever were! We need each dwarfling that’s being born so you can shove your irrelevant traditions up your…”

The healer spits on the floor between them, only just missing Thorin’s boot.

“I see you for what you are now, Oakenshield! You’re just like your fool of a grandfather, Thror of Erebor, who couldn’t even protect his own keep! Rumor has it that madness runs in the blood of your kin and that should explain why you are so eager to defend such a despicable spawn like this crippled freak!”

Thorin is swift. His slap sends the healer reeling sideways and a kick to his ribs makes him cry out and curl up like a dog on the floor. Thorin stalks over to the pitiful, writhing form and looms over him.

“Do not speak of my kin like that!”

He means it, both concerning his younger kin and his ancestors. Still, fury burns in the stranger’s eyes and Thorin sees the way his gaze darts to the basket with healing instruments nearby.

“No, you don’t!” Thorin yells and bears down on the dwarf but is abruptly hindered by a shrill cry behind him. Anxious, he turns only to discover how Kili is wriggling in his bundle dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Dis’s eyes are closed yet and her pale arm listless.

Thorin begins to move towards his nephew when the other dwarf seizes the chance provided by the momentarily distraction and launches himself towards the basket and retrieves a thin but surely deadly knife if used wrong. Thorin reaches Kili while still eyeing the other dwarf and lets his hand feel blindly for the bundle until he can push it further into the safe middle of the bed. At least he’s avoided a disaster so far.

He estimates his chances as scarce if he takes on the fanatic unarmed and should he become wounded, that would leave Dis and the rest of the family unprotected. If he draws his dagger from the belt, he could get arrested for threatening a healer. Weapons and injuries leave proof while vile words don’t.

The other dwarf swings the knife fast through the air in sweeping motions. “I have cut the cord on the freak; I can just as easily cut it to end its life and the shame.”

“Kili is my greatest joy and pride,” Thorin counters defiantly and inches more to the side to shield mother and son with his frame should the fool decide to throw the knife at them.

“But the shame! The shame!” the healer screeches and frightens Kili who starts to wail.

Thorin speaks to the healer as a wave of calm washes over him. He mustn’t do anything rash when he’s reasoning for his family. “I love him no matter what. Operations are possible to aid him, but he still is in this moment the most beautiful wonder I’ve beheld.”

The jaw works on the healer and his feet shift stance constantly, apparently unconsciously surrendering ground to Thorin.

“It’s crippled and foul and wrong! A curse and a disgrace and the fruit of shameful behaviour from the lady.”

Thorin exhales and argues while taking a slow step forward. “Not in my eyes. If we are to judge every dwarfling like you do, who would be fit to stay alive? The ones with small ears, the ones with large? Those with nimble fingers for writing or muscled hands for mining? Those with coal-black hair or those with brown? Men and elves think us stubborn, foolish, and greedy. Some of those races want us dead. Does that mean we should listen to their complaints and obey? It is folly to turn such hatred towards your own kind, especially helpless newborns.”

The arm wielding the knife lowers slightly and then the healer makes the mistake of averting his eyes, seemingly too stunned or outraged by Thorin’s words to react when the exiled king flings himself at him, grabs his wrist hard until the knife falls to the floor, and punches him square in the face.

“That’s for the insults you’ve thrown at my nephew!”

Thorin hits again, having secured the dwarf against the door. He aims for the cheekbone this time. “That’s for my beloved sister of the Durins who you’ve offended and hurt.”

The nose is next victim to his knuckles. “This is for the memory of my ancestors.”

It feels particularly satisfying to seek justice on behalf of his royal ancestors; his father Thrain and grandfather King Thror, but also to defend the honour of the living Durin’s; his only family.

Then he clutches the healer’s collar and wrenches his head up and leans dangerously close over him. “And this is for the shameful and disgraceful behaviour you’ve pestered us with on this glorious night.”

He growls low and the healer pales beneath the streaks of blood on his face before Thorin thrusts his head down and head-butts him hard. The healer sputters, his head lolls and he seems to lose any will to continue the fight. Thorin sneers at him.

“This is my justice for your sickening implications. You know you deserved it. Now, remove yourself from this house! If I ever see you near my family again; I will do terrible things to you that no healer has ever encountered before.”

Thorin proceeds to thrust the door open, all but drags the blubbering fool through the home until he reaches the main entrance where he throws the healer out into the darkness and locks the door behind him.

***

Leaning against the thick door, Thorin pants even out eventually and then he’s marching back to Dis’ bedchamber. A fierce need to protect drums inside him and he wonders slightly if this is what fathers feel when their loved ones are threatened.

He enters the room and emits in a tight exhale, “Kili?”, requiring reassurance that his nephew is well.

The little one lies flat on his back on the bed with sprawled arms and pouts, forced to only watch the unamusing ceiling in his position.

Thorin visibly slumps in relief and steps closer to examine the lad closer. He unwraps the bundle and frees Kili’s eager legs and growling belly. No wounds cover the pink skin, thank Aulë. The sound from Kili’s belly makes Thorin smile fondly again.

“Appetite like a true Durin, I hear. Well, let us see if your mother has prepared a snack for you.”

As he lifts the naked dwarfling into his embrace, still minding the head, Kili’s arms wave in the air until he finds purchase on the dangling strings on the lacing at the top of Thorin’s tunic. The lad’s arms momentarily press against the patch of skin visible there, and Thorin starts at the chill.

“So cold, Kili! You’ll catch a cold if we’re not careful. Here, laddie.” The grown-up swipes up a soft blanket from the foot of Dis’ bed and covers Kili with it. The lad needs his mother’s warmth and milk now. So Thorin sits on the bed and pushes a strand of hair from his sister’s hot forehead.

“Dis? Dis?”

A moan meets him but not open eyes. “Huh? Thorin? Where’s…? I… Kili?”

“Aye, I have your son here. He had need of me, so I took care of him while you rested. But he needs his Ma now.”

Finally, her eyes flutter open and her gaze is not swimming quite as much anymore. She looks at Thorin for a fleeting moment before her eyes dart to the creature in the blanket.

“You’ve swaddled him the Eastern way. The Erebor way,” she comments silently and Thorin shrugs and his thumb tickles Kili’s smooth cheek, partly to keep him awake and partly to rub warmth into it.

“I thought a new Durin should be dressed according to our own traditions. Will you feed him now?”

“Help me sit up.”

Since she is already reaching for her son, Thorin deftly hands him over before supporting Dis’ back and placing more pillows behind her so she can sit comfortably. He averts his eyes politely when she opens her dirty nightshirt to give Kili his first meal but upon hearing eager, smacking noises, he knows he can look back, since Dis has a dwarfling’s hungry mouth concealing her nipple if not the motherly swell of her bared breast.

“Was I out long? He certainly seems starved. And cold,” she winces and pats his bum gently like one would a nice bit of ham freshly bought from the market.

“Not long.”

There must be some tightness in his voice, for Dis lifts her head and frowns.

“Thorin? Come closer so I can take a look at you, brother.” Thorin brushes a hand over his mane and his beard before he slumps his shoulders and steps nearer.

“Your tunic is twisted like it wasn’t before. And your arms are bruised! And what’s happened to the room? Wait a moment; where is the healer? And why did he leave his instruments here?” Suddenly she looks suspicious and Thorin grimaces at his ever-attentive sister, displeased that she should notice the array so soon after coming to. And he wouldn’t sport bruises in the first place if he hadn’t had to block the healer’s blows.

“I found him faulted,” he answers stiffly and can’t help himself before caressing Kili’s hair again. Dis seems to accept the short explanation, at least for now.

“I think he was faulted, too,” his sister sighs and begins to coo at her feeding dwarfling. She shifts slightly and flinches, which Thorin notices.

“We need to hire another healer to take care of you.”

For once, Dis doesn’t wave his concern away. “Yes, we do. Wait a moment, though. I need some time on our own to get to know this hungry little one.”

Thorin’s gaze darts towards his nephew who is getting fat milk all over the lower half of his face and his splayed hands grapple at Dis’ skin. It’s hard to make out the skin that is webbed between his fingers.

“He had strong hands, I discovered,” Thorin remarks, subtly bringing her attention to the oddity, but praising the dwarfling nevertheless. Dis tilts her head to the side as she contemplates Kili’s hands.

“Have you already pulled your uncle’s beard, Kili? That’s my lad,” she grins and Thorin clears his throat, having an ominous feeling that the dwarfling will soon begin to do that prank to him as often as Fili used to do when he was a toddler. A burden of pain Thorin can bear, of course, but not able to do anything about, for he can’t manage to tell off such a small creature.

Dis laughs at his horrified expression and rubs Kili’s back through the blanket. “Please, Thorin, don’t look so startled. Anyway, I think I will give my consent to the next healer to have him remove the skin between Kili’s fingers.”

Thorin is aware that the decision is wise, for the lad’s sake, but his fierce protective nature makes him wonder, “Will the operation harm Kili?”

Dis wipes the errand milk from Kili’s rosy cheeks. “So possessive of him already, dear brother… No, there are skilled healers in this town. The problem is; how are we to send words for one now?”

Thorin drags a hand over his tired face. There is only one option, for no messengers are awake and available this late. “I shall go and fetch one,” he proclaims, not without a grimace. He would rather not leave Dis and the dwarfling to fend for themselves, should the first healer or other grim people with evil purpose attempt to breech the home. Then he thinks of an idea that is the most suitable and obvious one considering the circumstances.

“Wait here,” he says and turns.

“No, I think I’ll start cleaning the floor this instant,” Dis drawls back before tutting at Kili’s errand strands of hair, not minding Thorin.

***

He marches through the gloomy house in the late hour until he comes across a closed door with painted runes. He knocks, notices the blood on his knuckles and hastens to wipe off the worst of it on his breeches before opening the door.

“Fili, lad?”

A heap beneath a blanket meets his eyes. Then the heap starts to shift and a golden head peaks out at the end of the bed, surprisingly. The dwarfling is sleepy, brushing a knuckle against his eyes and yawning wide.

“Undle Torin?” The fifteen-year old dwarfling still talks incoherently if awakened unexpectedly. But then again, Fili is barely out of the toddler years.

Thorin holds out a hand to him as Fili climbs out of the bed, in a nightshirt that’s been unlaced and braids that has appeared in his golden hair. The lad must have been very thrilled to get a sibling during the night when he went to sleep at dusk and must have spent some time busying his hands before sleep came.

“Come, Fili. There’s someone who wants to meet you,” Thorin grins and Fili stumbles a little when he goes to his uncle but his blue eyes are suddenly sparkling.

“Is it the dwarfling? Tell me, Thorin, please, please! Is it tiny? Is it a lass or a lad? Is the hair golden? Can it play the anvil to my wooden hammer in the morning?”

The onslaught of questions takes Thorin by surprise. “Eh, the dwarfling is small and fragile, Fili, so no wild games for a few moons. You need to be the big brother right now and perform your first duty as one.”

He wanders through the house with Fili’s hand in his. Fili beams and puffs out his chest “Really?”

“Yes, really. You see, I need to go and find another healer to have a look at Ma and Kili. A better healer. So I need you to stay with Ma and Kili in the meantime and ensure that Kili stays on the bed and doesn’t fall off it if Ma falls asleep.”

Fili snickers. “Rolling off the bed like a wee bird from the nest! What does Kili think he is: an owl?”

Then Fili’s smile fades and his grip slackens on Thorin’s hand, so Thorin reluctantly halts right there in the kitchen and looks down at his nephew.

“You said Kili. It sounds like Fili. My sibling is a brother?”

“Yes, your Ma brought forth a son,” Thorin says imperiously and pride swells his heart.

“We’re brothers now. I have a brother! I have a brother!" Fili begins to sing and Thorin hurries to hush him.

“We must be quiet, Fili. The dwarfling could be asleep and your Ma is tired. You are too, beneath all that excitement. So please be calm.”

“Promise.”

Thorin pats his golden head and opens the door to the chamber. Fili’s hand tightens nervously in his.

“I have one brother here. Do you still have the other?” he asks Dis with a warm smile and she huffs pleasantly at the play beneath the pale complexion.

“I have the wee one here, yes. Though he refuses to go to sleep until he’s been introduced to his older brother.”

Thorin’s remaining dark rage finally gives way to nothing but love and fondess for his small but important  family. He doesn’t want to dwell on what would have happened if he hadn’t been here and Dis would be alone with the fanatic healer. He suppresses a shudder and swears that he will look after the family more regularly after this incident. Provide more coins for the grown family, spend time with Fili who is already worshiping him in an endearing and fiercely loyal way, and Kili who is going to be small for some time.

Fili climbs into the bed at Dis’ side and shuffles on his knees closer to Kili. At her eldest son’s presence, Dis drags a deep breath, as if she can breathe properly again.

“Fili, dear. My two lads in one room for the first time. A mother couldn’t be merrier.”

Thorin leans down next to her ear and whispers, “You are all safe. I’m protecting you. I shall go and fetch another healer.”

Dis replies to him, “I’ve heard of one in this city. He has a good reputation. He’s called Oin and stays in the trader’s quarters with his brother Gloin. Oin is known for his nimble stitches and generous nature. He will not deny me treatment for free if we plead.”

“So why did you not hire him this evening?”

She reaches up and caresses his beard with affection, trailing fingers over the recently missing braid that used to adorn the middle but which Thorin has forsaken on behalf of payment to the first healer.

“Because Lady Noira had twins yesterday. It is a good omen that so many dwarflings are being born nowadays. Oin did the right thing to assist her delivery before mine.”

Dis studies her two sons that are interacting on the bedcover beside her before adding, “Besides, now Oin might have time to treat Kili and make so small stiches that no scars will mar him, if anyone cared about scars anyway.”  

As he retreats, the scene looks like a scene should: a smiling and resting, albeit pale, mother, a sibling welcoming and bonding with the other, and candles lit to take away some of the smell and cast a cozy shine on the family that stays in the bed.

Thorin pauses at the doorpost and hears Fili’s tittering voice, “Look at this! First you try to fly from the bed like a thrush and now you try to look like a fish with fins. Must you be that special all the time, Kili? Do you like animals? I know a game; I can show it to you. You see, I’ll hoot like an owl and you’ll guess what kind of owl it is, and…”

“Fili, dear, Kili can’t quite talk yet.”

“That’s fine, Ma. I can see what he wants to guess if I look into his eyes.”

Fili has registered the oddity with Kili’s hands but hasn’t dwelled on it, with the acceptance of a kind dwarfling, so Thorin is convinced that Kili is just as much of a dwarf as any of them. A fine lad indeed. Both of them in fact. And he has two heirs. The thought of his two nephews feels like a balm to his troubled mind as he leaves the house to find this Oin.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome comments to hear your thoughts on this fill.


End file.
